


lost texts

by indiavolojones



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: asmodeus and a copious amount of fanmail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22412152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiavolojones/pseuds/indiavolojones
Summary: “I want you,” Satan says, his eyes lifting from the letter in his hands to catch yours.His eyes are an enchanting shade of green - bright, teasing, and most interestingly of all, softer around the edges in a way that you’ve never noticed him direct at you before. The glasses you’ve only ever seen when he’s reading sit low on the bridge of his nose; his lips form the next words slowly, punching the air out of your lungs with each syllable.“No secrets, no lies, no games.”
Relationships: Main Character/Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 324





	lost texts

“I want you,” Satan says, his eyes lifting from the letter in his hands to catch yours.

His eyes are an enchanting shade of green - bright, teasing, and most interestingly of all, softer around the edges in a way that you’ve never noticed him direct at you before. The glasses you’ve only ever seen when he’s reading sit low on the bridge of his nose; his lips form the next words slowly, punching the air out of your lungs with each syllable.

“No secrets, no lies, no games.”

His gaze lingers on your face for a moment, before drifting to examine the growing blush across your face. You embarrassment intensifies under his scrutiny. Just as the silence becomes awkward, you open your mouth to say something and -

Satan bursts out laughing.

“Can you _believe_ this?” He waves the letter in his hand, taking the thin framed glasses off his face with the other. He wipes at dramatized tears with the sleeve of his pull over.

“Give me that!” Asmo pouts, rising from his delicate sprawl across the chaise. It takes the other demon only a few strides over to where you and Satan are seated on opposite sides of the couch. Satan’s legs are crossed in front of him, angled towards you, while you’ve got both legs stretched across the length of the couch. Your feet are comfortably tucked under his thighs because, well, you were there first.

You’re not sure you’d necessarily be bold enough to tuck your feet under the fourth brother without his explicit permission.

Asmo cradles the letter close to his chest, pursing his lips at Satan, “There’s no need to be cruel, oh wrathful one.” He sniffs, before adding the letter to one of the huge piles of envelopes and packages on the coffee table. There’s more of the packages on the bed, along with several bouquets of flowers and boxes of chocolates.

“Asmo, _you’re_ the one that invited _us_ over to help you _sort your fanmail_ ,” Satan props one elbow on the armrest, resting his chin against his fist. He sighs, and gives you a conspiratorial look that says ‘ _oh my, what are we ever to do with him_?’.

You cover the laugh that escapes you with a cough. You’re still not sure what to do with the newfound camaraderie that’s blossomed between you and Satan after your trip to the human world. From the beginning, Satan has been nothing but welcoming, if not distant.

The emotional distance is nothing out of the ordinary - all of the brothers started off distant in their own ways, opening up to you in fashions fitting of their titles.

Mammon had begun his attachment out of greed, eventually realizing he’d being given something that no one else had. Levi made the pact based on the outcome of your competition with him, but if not for the jealousy he had for the relationship between Henry and the Lord of Shadows, you’re not sure he’d have ever reciprocated your affections. Never one for moderation, once Beel had let you into his space, there was no amount of you that would ever satisfy his need. Asmo has seen several of his brothers swear themselves to you - the desire that implies is enticing to someone as lustful as he is. It also makes your head feel like spinning off your shoulders.

But where does that leave you and Satan?

“You took me away from a night of translating ancient, possibly lost texts for some lesser devil’s abysmal attempt at seduction?” Satan sighs, folding his glasses to hang on the collar of his sweater. After, his hand falls to rests on your bare knee. You lips part in surprise; Satan gives you a coy smile in response.

“You’re _welcome_ ,” Asmo picks up one of the several bouquets, burying his nose in the fragant blossoms and inhaling, “Oh, I can hardly stand it. All of this love, for handsome, wonderful _me_.” He twirls in a circle, falling onto the covers of his bed. Petals fly into the air, and Satan rolls his eyes.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, love.” Asmo props himself up on his elbows to look straight at you.

“Hm?” You say, too distracted trying to control your heart rate at the heat of Satan’s palm on your exposed skin.

“My night is much more fun than Satan’s stuffy translating idea, don’t you agree?” Asmo asks, batting his eyelashes at you. There are many times where you can’t deny Asmo’s beauty, and Satan _can_ be manic in his pursuit of knowledge… but if you have to read one more letter dedicated to Asmo’s _plush lips_ , or his _shapely thighs_ , you might lose it.

“I’m actually kind of interested in these lost texts...” You shrug, aiming for nonchalance and unable to meet Satan’s eyes as he beams at you.

“I _knew_ you’d be just as enthused about diving into thousands of years of history! I should have brought them straight to your room, but I wasn’t sure if Beel was around and I’ll be damned if I let him get ketchup on what might be the only remaining copy of Homer’s _Margite_.”

Asmo watches the exchange between the two of you, before he throws himself back and slings an arm over his eyes, “Ugh, you’re no fun. Go on then, leave me for your dusty, boring manuscripts.”

Satan takes this as permission, rising from the couch. Your knee feels cold at the lack of his touch. He offers you a hand, which you take. You stand, Satan’s steady hand not leaving yours even when you’re fully upright. In a bold, breathtaking show, he brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“Shall we?” He asks, eyes twinkling.

“Homer’s _Margite_ waits for no man,” you manage to say, sweeping your arm out in a grandiose fashion - once you get past the lump in your throat, that is. “Or devil.” You quirk the corner of your lips into a smile, desperate to find your footing.

“No, no she does not,” he laughs, releasing you and heading for the door.

As you follow after, you try to catch Asmo’s eyes to see if he’s actually bothered, but the other is already humming to himself as he pulls petals from a flower. Under his breath, you can hear him murmuring with each petal, “ _He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not…_ ”

“He loves me! Of course he does!” Asmo’s laugh like tinkling bells follows you out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> "I came from your ao3. Would it be possible for a Satan drabble with the phrase "I want you. No secrets, no lies, no games." as a prompt, thank you (≧ω≦)/" 
> 
> ask and ye shall receive. sorry if you wanted smut. (o;
> 
> if you'd like to send me prompts or requests, find me @ indiavolojones.tumblr.com!


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